


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by Reioka



Series: Flash Fics [18]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flash Fic, M/M, Prompt Fic, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 07:17:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15967406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reioka/pseuds/Reioka
Summary: Tony couldn't have known that Steve was having a bad day.





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the sentence prompt: “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

Baby, It's Cold Outside

 

Steve was having a bad day.

 

There were six inches of fresh snow on top of yesterday’s snowfall when he got up late, as if he didn’t hate the cold already. He had spilled his coffee all over himself as soon as he got to SHIELD and had had to ask Coulson to cover for him in a meeting while he ran out for a new shirt, because he was supposed to meet foreign dignitaries later in the day. Then he’d had to listen to the foreign dignitaries bitch about New York with a smile over lunch, even though he really wanted to point out that just because the weather was shit (he agreed with them there), the people were still great and they were being assholes. Someone stole his afternoon sandwich out of the staff refrigerator. He’d accidentally thrown Sharon to the ground when they were trying to show an effective hold for certain mutants to some new agents and now she was pissed at him. And he didn’t make it to the break room in time to get a sesame seed bagel before they were all gone.

 

Now he was home, though, and he knew that there was going to be a crackling fire that he could sit in front of for a few hours with a blanket across his legs and a backlog of paperwork he needed to read. He might even be able to order some soup in. Soup sounded good. Maybe that spicy soup from the Chinese place Tony favored–

 

Steve noticed movement in the corner of his eye and jerked toward it, scowling when he saw Tony with one arm ready to fling a snowball. The other man was grinning wickedly, cheeks flushed from the cold, and Steve would bet his shield that somewhere, there was another Avenger ready to pelt Tony in the back of the head. Steve focused on the snowball in Tony’s hand, realizing with a jolt that it was suddenly being aimed at him.

 

“Don’t you dare throw that snowba–” he barked, but it was too late. Tony had already thrown it. He tried to prepare himself against the cold but he didn’t quite manage it in time, a full-body shiver going through him when some slush dripped under his collar. He shuddered, then snarled an angry, “Goddammit!”

 

Tony jerked backward as if he had been the one struck, the glee and playful smile falling from his face immediately. “S-Steve?”

 

“Don’t-!” Steve began, holding up a hand to stop him, then sighed angrily and stormed into the house.

 

He knew it wasn’t fair. Tony hadn’t known he’d had a bad day. He hadn’t known that today was a day where the cold made him anxious and out-of-sorts. But he also knew he couldn’t handle seeing Tony right now, would only yell at him more, and Tony didn’t deserve that. So he went up to his room, seething, dumped his wet clothes on the floor, and climbed into the shower. He took a few minutes to scrub himself entirely too harshly, then gave up, sagging in the stream of hot water.

 

Today really  _had_  been a shit-show from the beginning. He should have just stayed in bed when he’d realized he’d slept in ten minutes–it had really put a pall on his whole day.

 

And now he’d yelled at Tony, when Tony was just having a little fun, not knowing how wound tight he was. He’d looked so happy, had clearly been laughing a few minutes before seeing Steve–he always got these cute little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes after he’d been laughing, like the mirth was trying to linger as long as it could. Steve had ruined that joy with just one sentence, and he knew that it would probably take an incredible amount of groveling before Tony ever dared to pack snow together again.

 

Steve stayed in the shower twice as long as he usually would, trying to wash the shame off once he’d warmed up, but in the end, he got out of the shower feeling somehow worse than when he’d gone in. He scrubbed at himself with a towel half-heartedly before finally leaving the bathroom.

 

He nearly turned on his heel in the doorway when he saw Tony carefully picking up his wet clothes to put in the laundry basket.

 

“Oh,” Tony whispered, shoulders hunching. “I–I’m sorry, Steve. I was just grabbing some dry clothes.”

 

Steve tied his towel around his waist and walked over to him slowly, swallowing down the shame again when Tony looked up at him uncertainly after he lifted his hand instead of pressing his cheek into it like he usually did. He cupped Tony’s cheek gently, biting back a hiss at how cool he was to the touch. “You should shower and warm up.”

 

“’m not that cold,” Tony mumbled, frowning, but cautiously leaned into his hand anyway. “Nothing some wool socks and a warm bathrobe won’t help.”

 

“If you say so,” Steve agreed, unwilling to fight. He brushed his thumb over Tony’s chin, his lower lip. “I’m sorry for snapping, sweetheart. I had a bad day, and I took it out on you, and that was wrong.”

 

Tony tilted his head, brows furrowing together. “And I made it worse by throwing a snowball at you.”

 

“No,” Steve cut in immediately, careful to keep the frustration and anger out of it. “You didn’t make it worse. Don’t try to excuse my behavior. You looked so happy, and you were having fun, and I yelled at you for doing something harmless because I was in a bad mood. That’s not okay. What I did was wrong–and what’s worse, it ruined your fun.”

 

“It didn’t…” Tony began, but trailed off under Steve’s unrelenting stare. He looked down at his feet, frowning again. “Yeah.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve repeated softly, lifting his other hand to cup his cheek as well. He tilted Tony’s head back so he would meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, and I’ll do my damnedest to make it up to you, sweetheart.”

 

Tony stared up at him, quiet, considering, before he answered, “Okay.”

 

Steve tried for a smile but wasn’t sure if he managed it or not. “May I kiss you, Tony?”

 

“Of course, Steve,” Tony answered in surprise.

 

Steve leaned in to press their lips together in a chaste kiss, aching with how willing Tony was to let him even after being hurt by him. When he leaned back, it was only far enough to talk, and he dragged his thumb over Tony’s bottom lip as he whispered, “Do you want to cuddle with me?”

 

Tony was quiet again, obviously thinking about it, eyes searching his face. Finally, though, he smiled shyly, looking back down at the floor. “Can I put my toes on your thighs?”

 

Steve lets out a huff of laughter. “Yeah, sweetheart. Of course.”

 

Tony at least put on his wool socks, because even hurt, he was so kindhearted. (Steve could still feel how cold his toes were. He didn’t really care, but if he had, he figured he would have deserved it.)


End file.
